GeorgieKindergoth
by AlexRosenburg
Summary: Posted to show my starter for my role play Georgie.


Rubbing at his cheek, Georgie looked at his reflection in the mirror with a frown. Not that there was any other expression that was usually on his face. There was a nice bruise starting to swell up and it only further added to his irritation of the day. No, he still had school to go to after all (despite spending a large portion of it out of class). He pulled out a well-used bottle of concealer to smear across the bruise. It made it lighter, but didn't get rid of it completely. It was good enough for him. No one was stupid enough in his group of friends to ask. With him it was always 'don't ask, don't tell'. Stepping back, he took in his appearance.

Standing at a short five foot four, he was a scrawny thing. All along his body, everywhere he could reach that is, were intricate scars. They ranged from completely visible to thin marks. Rubbing at a small spiral on his shoulder, he moved into his bedroom. A lot of the time he didn't stay at home. No, he usually chose to be at Henrietta's house but that night had been difficult for her and he had to endure staying at home. The room he walked through was well kept and clean. There wasn't anything real definable on the walls to state who was lived in the room. Even the bed was a simple black and white. The only evidence of the person who lived there was in the drawers and closet.

Moving to gather his clothes for the day, he set them out. He ran a hand through his hair, sweeping the black bangs off to the side. He really needed a cigarette, but he had run out last night after the fight he went through with his father. He would just get Evan to buy him a pack; he was the oldest of his friend's after all. He pulled on a pair of tight black pants before slipping a black studded belt through the belt loops. Frowning a little, he realized that the jeans were looser then they should have been…which meant he had lost weight in the past two months. Shaking his head a little bit, he pulled on the plain black long-sleeve before crouching down to tug some boots up over the edges of his jeans. He finished off his dressing with a button-up jacket.

Satisfied with his appearance, he shoved some money into his back pocket as well as his cell phone before leaving the house.

"**Don't bring those goddamn faggot friends of yours over here either!"**

Georgie ignored the yell from his father as he made his way down the perpetual snowy streets of South Park, Colorado. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket, his hands curled around the switchblade he usually kept on his person at all times. It was a safety net. Something he could fall back on when he felt like he was in serious danger. His father was never a real danger in his eyes. Sure, he smacked him around a little, but Georgie was so dulled to pain that he really could care less how many bruises he showed up to school with.

It wasn't a long walk. Everything in South Park was easily within walking distance…with the exception of the thicker parts of the small town. The particular parts of town that held the bars, strip clubs, and large businesses. A new edition to the quiet mountain town. Moving across the parking lot, he spotted his friends already situated outside the loading dock. He made his way over silently, situating himself beside Dylan. No one asked him about the covered-up bruise, but Evan did hand him a cigarette which he lit up almost immediately. He took a long drag, leaning his body back against the steps of the loading dock before glancing to Henrietta almost lazily.

"I can stay over tonight, right?" he asked, his tone practically apathetic. It was so rare for him to speak. Not as much with his clique of friends, but still an oddity at times. The female shook her head, moving the end of the cigarette holder away from her mouth to expel a stream of smoke past her black lips.

"Sorry Georgie. The relatives are still in town so there's no room," she frowned before sticking the holder back into her mouth.

There was a brief look of torment on his face, but as soon as it was there it was gone. Without another word, he finished off his cigarette before pulling his switchblade out of his pocket. He pulled the sleeve of his jacket up just a little bit. His hands had very feint marks. He was too indecisive on what he actually wanted to put there, so he simply started to etch small spirals into the back of his hand while he half listened to what his friends were saying.

"-you can stay over."

Georgie looked up when he caught the tail end of what Dylan was saying. He eyed the red-fringed goth with mild interest in his eyes, "What?"

"I said you can stay over if you want…"


End file.
